Little Things
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: Its the little moments that make a friendship special...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Written for the VAMB 2010 Secret Santa. Froot, my recipient, asked for Janeway/Tuvok friendship but, being me, I couldn't tie down one idea… **

**Thanks to the ever wonderful and supportive sophiedoodle for the read through and advice**

**Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager, even though I like it better than they do. The poetry belongs to WB Yeats **

"Captain, I am afraid that I do not quite understand the purpose of this ritual."

"It's Christmas, Tuvok! You can't possibly tell me that you don't know what Christmas is."

"I am aware of such a celebration, Captain, but it has never been something I have actively participated in. I have no need to-"

Rolling her eyes, Kathryn pushed the brightly coloured box into his hands. He stood awkwardly, holding it as though it would explode at the first movement he made. Vulcans never received gifts graciously.

"It's not dangerous, Tuvok! If you would prefer, then consider it a going away present. Nothing to do with Christmas at all - just a gift to make your time in the Maquis a little more homely."

"Thank you, Captain," he said eventually, apparently convinced that she wasn't in fact trying to kill him. His nose wrinkled slightly as though he were fighting to remember something half buried.

"It was most thoughtful," he said slowly, "You should not have."

She smiled widely and nodded her encouragement.

"See? You've got the sentiments sorted already. Just you wait, I'll have you singing carols next year."

"I sincerely hope not."


	2. Chapter 2

Tuvok ignored the eyes of everyone in the mess hall as he settled down at what he had come to call his table. He knew that the engineers involved in his bid to get the technology were watching him, probably interested in how the captain was going to punish him. Out of respect for her, he had already decided to refuse any questions that they asked. He soon realised he had no need to consider such an eventuality, because a sudden hush fell over the room, and even with his back to the door, he knew that the captain had come in. Neelix was the first to speak.

"Good evening, Captain. Can I offer you something to eat?"

"Yes, please."

An uneasy chatter began again, as the people in the room realised that their silence was far too obvious and sought to rectify it. It wouldn't do for the captain to know quite how far the rumours had got already.

Tuvok remembered that the mess hall had been almost full when he had arrived, and he stood quickly to find the captain looking carefully around the room, tray in hand. There were no spaces, besides those at his table. Tuvok raised his voice slightly and indicated one of the chairs.

"Captain?"

She did not speak, but just stared at him for a moment, before pointedly turning and leaving the room. He was aware of the eyes on him once again, trying to gauge his reaction to this interesting turn of events. He resumed his seat slowly, gazing at the PADD next to his tray for a long time before reaching for his spoon and beginning to eat.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of the Doctor talking quietly to himself in his office was the only sound in sickbay, as Kathryn sat in silent vigil over Tuvok's bed. Their time on the planet, with B'Elanna, had been most physically damaging to him and the Doctor insisted that he sleep in sickbay for one night where he could monitor him. Of course, Tuvok hadn't argued as any other member of the senior staff would; he accepted his confinement with nothing more than his customary nod and good grace.

"_It's not as though he could argue much," _Kathryn thought to herself. There had been no denying the extent of some of the wounds that the Mokra had inflicted on Tuvok. The Doctor had found evidence that someone, probably a prison doctor, had tried to heal the wounds, but the work was badly done. Tuvok couldn't remember exactly what they did to him - or if he did then he wasn't sharing – but the Doctor had mentioned at least four broken ribs, a fracture to the skull and burn marks on the stomach. And then B'Elanna, who was sat on a nearby bio bed, had dealt the trump card.

"_Doc?"_

"_Yes, Lieutenant?"_

"_I couldn't tell you for sure but when we were in that prison, I could hear a man screaming. I think it was Tuvok."_

_Instantly, all three of them turned to look furtively at Tuvok, who was thankfully engaged in conversation with Chakotay and too busy to notice them watching him. When they looked back at one another, Kathryn had a hand over her mouth and the Doctor's frown deepened._

"_My god," Kathryn murmured, "How bad did it get?"_

"_I don't know," the Doctor shook his head sadly, "But if it was enough to make Tuvok cry out, it must have been fairly awful."_

And so she had vowed to stay with him until he woke up. From the rest of the story that B'Elanna told them, it sounded as though Tuvok had done his utmost to protect the engineer from the same fate as his own, including lying to the guards about her involvement and personal motives. Kathryn suspected that B'Elanna would like to be with her at Tuvok's side, but the Doctor had ordered her back to her quarters to sleep and roped in Chakotay to make sure it happened. There would be no escaping for her before morning, so Kathryn was alone with the Doctor's whispers and the barely audible sound of the machinery in action.

It occurred to Kathryn, as she watched him sleep, that in slumber her friend was almost exactly like when he was awake. She believed that you could tell a lot about a person by the way they slept. He lay flat on his back, his hands folded neatly on his stomach and his breathing deep and even. She'd been with him for nearly three hours and in all that time, he had only moved once. He oozed the calm and stillness that he carried in his waking hours. The only difference she could see was in his face; the normally blank and serene countenance that he exhibited was gone, to be replaced with a more human version of what she called his 'perplexed face'. Every so often, when the answer to a problem briefly eluded him, he would allow a tiny outward sign that something was wrong; the slight twitch of an eye, a brief furrowing of a brow, a miniscule frown. When they had first worked together, she cherished his 'perplexed face', because it meant that she had got one over on him. But then, as she had grown to know him and appreciate his friendship, she began to dread that look, because it meant that something was usually very wrong. This look whilst he was sleeping also disturbed her, because it made him look remarkably human and he did not seem happy. He looked sad, even a little scared, and she wished she could know what he was dreaming of. He looked vulnerable, and her heart ached knowing that he would wake up the next day and never share his dreams with anyone, never talk it out and get over whatever was paining him in his resting hours. He would never be able to share the burden.

With a sigh she reached out and took his hand, moving it gently from his stomach to his side where she could hold it. For a brief second as she made contact, the uneasy tightness of his face seemed to relax slightly and his lips moved to their more common, neutral position. She smiled in response, because she knew that he couldn't, and squeezed his hand gently. It wasn't much, nowhere near what she wished she could do to help him, but it was a start.

"Sleep well, my friend," she murmured, "I'm here."


	4. Chapter 4

"Captain, I do not believe that the task you have assigned me is the best use of my time."

"I don't care, Seven. You are going to do this and no amount of arguing on your part is going to change my mind. You owe the lieutenant that much."

Tuvok sat perfectly still, listening to the heated exchange. It had been a long time since he had heard such anger in the captain's voice, and it surprised him slightly. He suspected that the extensive damage to the ship was really responsible for her black mood, and so she was fighting for control of the situation by making demands in areas that she knew would be accomplished. He heard Seven sigh somewhere to his left and knew she was admitting defeat.

"Very well, Captain. Do you wish for the lieutenant to remain here or to begin accompanying me right away?"

"I need him here," she said, "Go and do some work and I'll call you when we're done."

"Aye, Captain."

The doors to the Ready Room closed behind Seven, and Tuvok immediately felt the atmosphere in the room change. The sofa moved besides him as the captain sat down.

"Was I too harsh on her, Tuvok?"

He was familiar with this tone of the captain's voice, and he did not need to try and read her expression to understand what she was feeling. He turned his head slightly, towards the sound of her voice.

"Your orders make sense, Captain. I will need assistance to carry out my duties. However, perhaps your reasons for choosing Seven to fulfil that need are a little questionable."

"Questionable?"

"It is not her fault, Captain, that I have lost my sight. Whilst she disobeyed my orders, I do not blame her for the incident in question. We have all done things that we regret, particularly when we believe we can do some good."

He was aware of the distinctly human phraseology that he was using, but he had noted that it was when he used such colloquialisms that the captain responded best to his advice and thoughts. The sofa shifted slightly as she moved closer to him, and he felt a tentative hand on his knee. Kathryn noticed wryly that he was expecting the gesture; even without his eyesight, he did not jump or react to her touch.

"You're so forgiving, Tuvok. Always able to see past the problem to the logical conclusion."

"I am Vulcan."

"And I'm human," she sighed, "So you'll forgive me if I am angry at Seven for a while. It's on your behalf, you know."

"I suspected as much," Tuvok nodded slowly, "And whilst the gesture is over sentimental, I appreciate it."

Kathryn was glad that he couldn't see the sheen of moisture in her eyes, as she gazed at his face. Tuvok always had a fairly blank countenance – such was the nature of being Vulcan, of course – but she had always appreciated the occasional spark of fire in his eyes, the hint that there was something more below the surface. Now that his eyes were useless, the fire seemed to have gone and she was worried that a little bit of her friend had died with it.

As though he could tell what she was thinking, which for all she knew he probably could, Tuvok reached out on his own accord and slowly patted her hand on his knee. She smiled wordlessly. Eyes or no eyes, the fire was still burning somewhere.


	5. Chapter 5

"Captain, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Tuvok. Come in."

He stood in front of her desk and shook his head slightly when she waved vaguely towards the spare chair. Unconsciously, Kathryn sat up straighter and put the PADD she had been reading to one side. Tuvok looked serious. That is, he always looked serious but she knew the difference between his moods and this was a particularly trouble one. She'd only seen him like this a few times.

"What's wrong, Tuvok?"

He cocked his head slightly, "What makes you believe that there is a problem, Captain?"

"A charging targ would think twice if he saw the look on your face, Tuvok!"

She sat back, the odd tightness in her chest loosening its hold slightly. The ship might not be about to fall apart, but there was still something wrong.

"Tuvok, sit down. You're making me nervous."

"Very well."

He did as he was told, sensing that he had upset her in some way but not understanding how. Even after all their years together, there was still a lot she could do to perplex him.

"Captain, you may recall that several years ago, you told me to 'lighten up'.

"I did," she said, confused as to why it had taken him this long to take issue with what she had said. Vulcans weren't supposed to hold grudges; it said so in the instruction manual. Trying to fight the sudden bizarre mental image of winding up a huge key in Tuvok's back, like an old fashioned clockwork toy, she zoned back in on what he was saying.

"Although I have for many years been unsure as to what exactly you meant by that phrase, I have been looking for opportunities to…let go a little."

"I didn't know you had taken it to heart, Tuvok."

He shot her a pitying look.

"I am Vulcan, Captain. I do not take things to heart, only under consideration."

"Of course. Please continue."

He folded his hands neatly in his lap and looked her straight in the eye.

"I need your help, Captain, to play a prank on Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim."

She blinked, vaguely aware that he had said something but listening to a brain that insisted he had not. He couldn't possibly have said what she thought he just said. She'd got it wrong.

"Captain? Was the terminology I used incorrect?"

"No, not at all," she said faintly, "You want to play a joke on Tom and Harry. You?"

"Yes."

"And where, may I ask, has this sudden need for mischief come from?"

"The pair of them have tampered with my holodeck programmes once again. I have noticed, amongst the youngsters on this ship, that the best way to make someone stop doing something is to 'give them a taste of their own medicine'. That is the term that Miss Wildman used recently. I believe that this action could be most effective in my case."

Kathryn couldn't help but gape a little, knowing that the slack jawed yokel look was doing her no favours but not caring in the slightest. Her friend, her Vulcan friend and her responsible chief of security, wanted her to help him play a joke on some of their junior officers. She was tempted to pinch herself, just to make sure that she wasn't having a wonderful dream and then she considered taking him to sickbay for a neural scan, just to check that they weren't under attack from some alien entity. Then, just for a wild moment, she contemplated telling Q to come out and admit to his new tricks.

"Captain, would you be willing to assist me? I have no experience in this field of human behaviour."

Tuvok sounded almost anxious in his appeal and as her brain slowly adjusted to the truth – that, in fact, no alien or act of Q was making him ask his favour of her – a smile spread over her face. _Lighten up,_ she thought, _I don't think either of us quite had this in mind. _

"Do you understand what you have just asked me to do? I am the captain of this ship – I have to show a little dignity, maintain a good reputation, act as a model for the rest of the crew. What would it look like if I assisted you in such a venture, Tuvok?"

He visibly deflated at her words and nodded resignedly.

"I understand, captain. I apologise for asking you."

He stood to leave and she let him get as far as the door, relishing the rare opportunity to know something more than he did. Whatever his strengths of character, he'd never quite be able to manage humour.

"Tuvok, I didn't say no, did I?"

"But-"

"It would look bad, but only if we get caught. Luckily, I was pulling pranks on my friends whilst Mister Paris was still in diapers and Mister Kim was but a spark in his mother's eye. What exactly did you have in mind?"


	6. Chapter 6

0300 hours.

Kathryn massaged her forehead as she walked down the corridor towards the mess hall. Chakotay would kill her if he knew that she was still awake, having promised that she would get some sleep, but she had tried and failed to rest. It had been a difficult day; having to say goodbye to Neelix had drained any will that she had to do anything. She knew it would be hard to let him go but she never imagined that she would feel quite so awful. The Talaxian had come to mean a great deal to her, as more than a crewman and colleague. After Kes left, they became close; he because he was suddenly so lonely and she because she was reeling from the loss of someone she had come to consider her daughter. Neelix was one of her closest friends and confidantes and for a moment she felt guilty for not anticipating quite how bad she would feel when he left.

The doors to the mess hall slid open and she stepped into the semi darkness. She'd come to help herself to a cup of tea from the replicator, sit in her favourite chair and try to feel closer to Neelix. This was, after all, his domain.

She'd crossed the room and ordered her tea before she realised that there was someone else in the room with her. A shadow stood stiffly by the viewports, almost wistful in the way that its head moved to follow the occasional star, always looking back in the direction that they had just travelled from. She took her tea and went to stand next to the shadow, warming her hands on the mug. The shadow didn't speak to acknowledge her presence, but moved over slightly to allow for her to get a better view from the port. She glanced up at the unmoving visage and sighed softly.

"I miss him too, Tuvok."


	7. Chapter 7

You're sat in exactly the same place as you always used to be, with the PADD and mug of tea arranged precisely around you. The Tuvok of old, the one that I could rely on to always be there with the right thing to say and the right suggestions to offer. For a brief moment, I consider leaving you be; would it be a betrayal of my Tuvok if I were to talk to his younger, lucid self? I almost turn away, but then I remember that the reason I'm here at all is because I want this Tuvok back. Of all the things that I'm here to change, your future is one of the most important to me personally. I can't leave, can't sacrifice myself like this, without doing this. I want to remember my friend as he was. And I don't really care how selfish that makes me. I'm the one who's going to die, dammit!

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Admiral," you nod, the new title rolling so easily off your tongue whereas the others have often slipped and called me 'captain'. Of course you wouldn't make such an error.

I sit down and have a minute to take everything in. How often did we two sit like this, debating, discussing? Never arguing. I must be staring, because you pointedly pick up your mug and say, "How can I be of assistance, Admiral?"

I don't know how much my younger self has shared with you, so I don't want to say too much. If my plan doesn't work, I don't want you to know the future that awaits you. No one should have that to look forward to.

"I don't need anything, Tuvok. Just a chat."

You raise an eyebrow.

"With respect, Admiral, you of all people should know that I do not engage easily in 'chat'."

Oh Tuvok, if only you knew. If only you knew that the few words you've spoken since I sat down is the most that I have heard you say in a long time. The most that makes sense anyway. This may not be the ideal 'chat' but it's more than I can get from my Tuvok. With him, it's random. He says exactly what is in his head, which with his childlike and terrified mind is disturbing at best and frightening at worst. He's so scared of everything, all of the time, that even his grandchildren can't visit him anymore. There is so little left of my friend that I can hardly stand to see him myself. He breaks my heart, even more than you used to do. You don't know that, do you Tuvok? That sometimes even _you_ move your friend to tears, when she's alone and you've said something so wonderful, so comforting, and you don't even realise.

"Your granddaughter is beautiful, Tuvok."

It's random, I know, but it's the first thing that comes into my head. I want to keep you here, talking to me. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued as I knew you would be.

"You have met my granddaughter?"

"Yes. I can't tell you much about her, because it's all in the future, but she is a beautiful child. She plays the Vulcan lyre."

"Indeed? My attempts to engage my children in music have not succeeded beyond Eliath's desire to listen to it. It is gratifying to know that I will have more success with my granddaughter."

Damn. I didn't mean it like that. If my plan doesn't work then it will not be you who teaches her to play but a professional teacher, on T'Pel's insistence that someone should learn in order to try and soothe her husband's increasingly troubled mind. But you speak so little of your family, or at least you did speak so little of them, that I can't see any reason to ruin your illusions. I'll let you have this one. If it doesn't work out, it'll give you something to hold on to.

"Yes," I try to smile, "She's going to adore you, Tuvok."

"She will not, if she is Vulcan."

"Don't try and pull that one on me, Tuvok. You know exactly what I mean."

You stare at me for a moment, before nodding and raising your mug to your lips. Your eyes never leave my face.

"Yes, Admiral. I believe that I do."


	8. Chapter 8

_When you are old and grey and full of sleep…_

The stray line of a long forgotten poem crept into Kathryn Janeway's mind as she watched her best friend sleep in the armchair that he always favoured. As much as Tuvok tried to deny it, he was getting old. So was she, for that matter, but as she kept reminding herself, she wasn't the one pushing 180 years old. He could be forgiven his afternoon naps. And evening naps. And, sometimes, morning naps. She never mentioned his newly acquired habit; old age had made Tuvok's stubborn streak even more unbearable than before, and he'd only try and force himself to stay awake if he believed he has been noticed. It was better to let him think that she thought him to be meditating. It let him think he was winning without denting any of that Vulcan pride she had come to know like an old companion.

"Why are you watching me?" a suspiciously crotchety sounding voice resonated from the deep armchair and a pair of ancient dark eyes focused on her face.

"You just reminded me of a very old poem that I read a long time ago."

For a moment there was no answer and she thought that he might have gone back to sleep, until the voice rumbled again, "I see. Can I offer you an iced tea?"

"That would lovely."

With a leisurely pace that was only just beginning to betray Tuvok's age, he pulled himself from his chair and padded towards the replicator, his slippered feet making no noise. He still moved faster than she did, even being so much older than she, and sometimes Kathryn found herself envying his natural Vulcan physique.

"I must soon go and visit my wife," Tuvok murmured suddenly, handing Kathryn her cup and settling himself carefully in his chair, "Perhaps you would like to accompany me."

"Of course, if you don't want to go alone."

"That is not the issue," he bristled slightly, sipping his drink, "I believed that you would want to join me but would not ask. I saved you any difficulty by offering immediately."

"Of course," she grinned guiltily into her cup, "Most thoughtful of you."

It had been several years previously that Tuvok had quite unexpectedly lost his wife, and Kathryn did not think that he had ever quite been the same. At the wake, she had told him that he was welcome to stay with her for a while; since being widowed herself, she felt lonely in a house too large for one person. To her delight, Tuvok had taken her up on the offer, save for one small detail. He'd stayed for three years. Sometimes, he would talk of returning to Vulcan and the home that he had shared with T'Pel, but with all of his children choosing to relocate to Earth for work and family purposes, he really had nothing to go back to. He hadn't even been to T'Pel's grave, but that was because he often talked to her. Kathryn heard him, when he thought she wasn't listening. He believed in the katra, she knew, and was just putting the human spin of talking to departed loved ones onto his Vulcan belief. Same old Tuvok.

"Do you remember, many years ago, when you threatened to make me sing carols at Christmas?" Tuvok asked, his eyes focused on the gently twinkling lights of the tiny Christmas tree that Kathryn insisted upon every year.

"Yes," she smiled slowly, "I've never forgotten the look on your face."

"This year, I have prepared you a Christmas gift, in compensation for the one you gave me many years ago," he said, taking his lyre from the stand next to his chair, "Although I will not sing, I thought this would be adequate."

Kathryn eyed him in wonder as he began to play. His fingers, stiff with age, moved awkwardly up and down the neck of the instrument, until he seemed to pick up a rhythm and his hands loosened up. He was playing 'Silent Night', her favourite old carol. Kathryn leaned her head back on the chair and watched him from the corner of her eye. His brow wrinkled with a concentration that she hadn't seen for years and didn't even think he could muster anymore. The sounds of the instrument washed over her; it was a rare treat to hear him play, and to know that he had learned a song for her made it all the more wonderful. Tuvok had done a lot to surprise her over the years, but she didn't think that he'd ever done something that made her feel quite like she did right then. On her first day at the Academy, her father had told her that if she met any Vulcans, she had to treat them with more respect than her other friends but she'd found them so unnerving anyway that she tended to avoid them. It was only Tuvok, who was the only Vulcan that she ever felt truly comfortable around, who taught her, unwittingly, that there was a lot more to Vulcans than being disapproving and cold hearted.

So much more.

"That was beautiful, Tuvok," she whispered, a tear sliding down her face as came to a finish with an uncharacteristic flourish, "Just when I think I know you, you pull something like that out of nowhere."

"It is most gratifying that you enjoyed your gift," he nodded, putting the instrument carefully aside and deliberately patting the hand that she had laid on the arm of his chair. She sniffed and squeezed his fingers.

"Thank you Tuvok. So much."

"It was quite simple. I could learn-"

"I meant thank you for being you. Promise me you'll never change, Tuvok."

"I do not plan on such a thing."


End file.
